


Without Even Looking

by Cobrilee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Shiro (Voltron) Friendship, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Artist Shiro, Flirting, Identity Porn, Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, M/M, Mentions of past Keith/James, POV Alternating, Singer Keith, implied PTSD, meeting online
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Shiro likes to create fan art for his favorite band, Scorpius, and their gorgeous lead singer, Keith. Keith discovers Shiro's art and becomes a fan in return.It doesn't take long for friendship to become something more. Unfortunately for Shiro, he has no idea he's fallen for the same man twice.





	Without Even Looking

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, here is my fic for the Sheith Prompt Bang. As soon as my partner's gorgeous art is up, I'll add a link to it!
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my fantastic betas whom I could not live without, [mad-madam-m](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/) and [rhysiana](https://rhysiana.tumblr.com/). Also thanks to [latart](https://latart.tumblr.com/) for plotting help at the outset of this thing.

“These are shit.”

Keith scowls, snagging one of the crumpled-up balls of paper off the floor around his bean bag and pinging it off Lance’s head. “You do better.”

“Wouldn’t be hard. These lyrics are even more whiny and ‘woe is me’ than your usual crap.”

“That ‘usual crap’ won us two awards for the last album,” Pidge reminds him mildly, but her eyes warn Lance to back off.

He does, because it’s Pidge. “I’m just saying, Keith, we don’t want everyone to start thinking of us as a wannabe 2000s emo band.”

“I hate to say it, buddy, but Lance is right. This song sounds like you need therapy,” Hunk says, and the apologetic tone mollifies Keith only a little. “I mean, that’s kind of a given, you’re a songwriter and you pretty much all need therapy, but this is, like, way more therapy we’re talking about now.”

“Ughhh,  _ fine _ ,” he groans, flopping back in the chair until his hair brushes the floor behind him. The vinyl bunches up under his back and shoulders and the one weird flat spot has him a little lopsided. It’s not comfortable, but he kind of also doesn’t want to look at his bandmates, so he stays where he’s at.

The thing is, he knows the lyrics are shit. The only difference between them and the first eight attempts at writing their new “hit single” is that this sheet of paper hasn’t gotten wadded up and thrown at something in frustration. But it’s coming.

Pidge runs her fingers over her keyboard; the electronic sound echoes through the room, but it’s comforting, grounding. “Why don’t you take a break from writing? We can try fine-tuning the harmonies for the bridge, and maybe that’ll make something click in your head.”

“Great idea, Pidge,” Hunk rushes in, cutting off Lance before he can even finish opening his mouth. As much as things are significantly better now, after four years of 

playing together, Lance still delights in needling Keith whenever the opportunity presents itself. Hunk and Pidge try valiantly to make sure those opportunities are limited. 

Lance pauses with his mouth half-open, then snaps it shut. “I think so, too,” he says, surprising everyone.  _ Although _ , Keith muses,  _ maybe it shouldn’t, because again, Pidge. _ Lance thumbs at his guitar strings, effortlessly plucking out a simple melody. Pidge joins in on keyboard, her touch light and gentle at first, but when Hunk adds in his bass and starts rolling his sticks over his snare, Pidge and Lance both amp up their own efforts.

Keith watches and listens, not wanting to interrupt them by standing up to grab his own bass. He loves it when they fall into this rhythm, no pre-planning or concerted effort, just playing from their souls. It’s the purest sound, in his opinion, and historically leads to their best songs. The number one single from their first album, “Fade Out,” was born from one of these sessions.

He gets lost in the melody for awhile, the sound flowing over and through him, and lets the imagined sound of his bass build in his head. The words don’t come like he wants them to, but by the time the song comes to a close, he has the bassline composed.  _ Which is something, at least _ , he allows. Neither lyrics nor harmonies have come easy for him lately, but with one down, he can concentrate on the other.

“That’s it,” Lance declares immediately, and Pidge nods with a bright smile. “Now you need to let that speak to your withered, love-starved soul, and get cracking on those lyrics.”

Keith debates between glaring at Lance and rolling his eyes, and settles on a flinty stare. “Fuck you, Lance.”

“No thanks,” he counters cheerfully. “I’m too much of a ladies’ man to be satisfied with your dick.”

Hunk laughs, but Keith’s glance flicks to Pidge, who’s perfectly still and expressionless.  _ That one hurt _ , he deduces, and wonders if he should mention it to her. Or to Lance.  

Interpersonal relationships are not his forte, however, and he especially isn’t interested in touching the bizarre one between his guitarist and keyboardist. He knows he’ll get dragged back into it eventually, which comes with the territory of being Pidge’s best friend, but he’d rather not invite it upon himself ahead of time.

“I’m going home,” he says instead, lifting himself up carefully from the chair as it shifts underneath him. “Maybe I’ll have an easier time focusing without you giving me endless shit.”

“Please,” Lance scoffs, “half of our songs were written when you were annoyed as shit with me.”

He’s probably not wrong. “Maybe, but I’d like to see if I can write something good without you being a pain in my ass as inspiration.”

Pidge waves him off, knowing that if someone doesn’t separate the two of them, it will likely escalate into some kind of childish insult war. Keith likes to think he’s more mature than that, but Lance is the one person who can bring it out of him.

Well, and James, but that hasn’t been a thing for years.

“Go on, get out of here, make us proud,” she declares, shooing him when he hesitates. “We’ll see you at practice on Tuesday.”

“Hopefully with a new, kick-ass song,” Hunk chimes in, and great, no pressure. 

Shouldering his backpack, Keith nods in acknowledgment but elects to keep his mouth shut. If he engages any of them again, it’ll be another twenty minutes before he’s able to leave. Instead, he slips his earbuds in and heads out the door, wincing when it drops back hard and slams into his shoulder. He makes a mental note to ask the landlord to fix the hydraulic closer, along with a laundry list of other issues with the studio.

One of these days they’ll have the money to upgrade the studio, or so he likes to hope. There’s probably a lot more they could use the money for, but they’ve all agreed that prime practice space is more important. If nothing else, their instruments should be kept someplace with an ambient temperature above “meat locker.”

They’re not hurting for money; in fact, they’re doing pretty well for themselves after the first album, but they’re in that stage where they could be the next big thing, or they could be a one-album wonder and fade out of the public consciousness without fanfare. Keith is cautious about spending their savings on new digs before they have somewhat of an assurance that said digs are warranted and will actually get some use.

When he gets home, he nukes a frozen bean and cheese burrito while he boots up his laptop. He lets it hang half out of his mouth like a very large, tortilla-covered cigar while he logs in to his favorite website for checking out fan works for the band. (Nevermind that he would absolutely destroy Lance in his most withering tone of voice if he caught his guitarist engaging in the same behavior. He’s at home, he can be a little bit of a caveman in his own environment.)

The first thing that loads onto his dash is a fic featuring him and Lance, and seriously, he does not understand these people. It’s common knowledge that he’s gay, considering that he very deliberately informed the world that “Fade Out” was about his relationship with James, but Lance could not be any more hetero if he tried. And he does, regularly.

Keith scrolls for a little bit, noting with interest that someone wrote a fic with Lance and Pidge.  _ Pidge would be mortified, and Lance would pretend to not understand why, but I bet he’d secretly love it.  _ He considers for a moment before forwarding the link to Lance. 

There’s a gorgeous fanart of him with his eyes closed, mouth close to the microphone, and he can almost hear his own voice crooning across a hushed audience. He also comes across an animation of Hunk and Lance jamming out, with Lance dancing around in front of Hunk’s drum kit, and Hunk’s face screwed up in concentration as he goes through a complicated solo. Keith is in utter awe of both of their talent, so he sends a message to each of the artists telling them their work is incredible. He forwards the link for the animation to Lance and Hunk.

He comes to a dead stop when he scrolls to the next post, his eyes going wide and his jaw falling open a little. Of all the fanworks he’s seen over the past year, this is by far the most exquisite. He enlarges the image so he can see it in better detail, and when he does, he whistles under his breath.

The sculpture is stark white, but the details are so careful and precise that if Keith didn’t know better, he would swear the artist had spent hours lovingly examining every inch of his face. The only reason he knows it isn’t possible is because the only people he spends that much time with are his band mates, and their manager. None of them can draw a stick figure with any degree of competency, so Keith can rule out every single one of them as the mystery sculptor.

He leans in, noting the fine lines of his eyelashes, the perfect slant to his eyes, and the delicate slope to his nose. His hair curls down his neck in a graceful fall that somehow looks soft and ethereal, despite the stone the statue is carved from. It looks like marble to Keith’s untrained eye, but he can’t imagine anyone using that kind of material for him.

Then again, he’d never imagined that someone might invest so much time and effort, and clearly a lot of adoration, into something for him, either.

His head tips down, ostensibly watching the way his fingers fold over the strings of his bass, a soft, private smile half-curving his full lips, and his left hand wraps around the neck of the instrument with a careful reverence that Keith didn’t know anyone else ever saw. The more he looks at the statue, the more he feels the artist somehow crawled into his head and projected the image Keith carries with him. 

It’s breathtaking, and not a little disconcerting that this person who’s probably never met him can capture him so perfectly.

He clicks on the artist’s profile and sends a message.

**Orions_Nightmare** : I saw that post with your statue of Keith from Scorpius, and it’s fucking incredible. If anything defines the word artistry, it’s that. Big fan, huh?

Okay, so it’s a little bit of ego-stroking. Clearly the artist is a fan or they wouldn’t have put so much into their work, but Keith wants to give the person an opportunity to talk about their art. It’s only fair, with as much as they’ve given to him.

He clicks back from the messaging system and scrolls through the artist’s posts. It seems to be the first fanwork he’s posted, and Keith wants to tell him he should have started out small, because he can’t imagine there’s anywhere to go now but down.

Apparently the sculptor is also a painter, because there are a number of paintings that appear to be original works. He has quite a few naturescapes, but not the bland kind mass-produced for dentist waiting rooms. Some of them are explosions of color, with one of a cherry blossom tree-lined street that reminds Keith of their tour stop in Tokyo. They hadn’t had long to sightsee, but Keith had at least had the chance to take a quiet walk under the canopy of pink blossoms. It had been one of the most peaceful moments he’d had since their album dropped.

There are a couple he’s really drawn to, one of which is pretty much the opposite of the cherry blossoms. It’s still full of trees, but it’s done in blacks, whites, and grays, and gives off a wintry feeling of death. The branches are stripped bare of petals, the bark cracked and broken, gnarled limbs reaching out with bony fingers, and Keith has an irrational feeling that they’re reaching out for his soul.

Clicking back to the messaging system, Keith sends another message.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Just checked out the rest of your work, and damn. Everything you do is just as fantastic as the piece before it. You’re really talented and I can’t wait to see what else you share. 

He clicks on the “follow” button and only momentarily feels a pang of embarrassment at his effusiveness. Shrugging it off, he logs off the site and opens up a Google doc. The artist deserves to know how amazing they are. It’s worth a little bit of shame. 

Now if only he could channel even a fraction of that talent while working on this damn song. He bets his bandmates would be more impressed by another hit single than a gorgeous statue.

\-----

“Are you busy, Shiro?” Allura asks, sticking her head just inside his office. His door is open, as it nearly always is, and Shiro waves her in.

“Not at the moment. My last student left five minutes ago and officially, my office hours are over.” Not that that matters; his students know if he’s in his office and his door is open, they’re welcome to come in whether it’s during office hours or not. “What can I do for you?”

She settles into the chair in front of his desk and he tries to squash the wariness that creeps up. Allura isn’t often one to come in and sit down unless it’s serious. “Should I be concerned?” he asks, striving for calm as he gestures at her and the chair.

Laughing, she shakes her head. “Not at all. I just haven’t seen you since you got back from Japan, and I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

He doesn’t blame her. His trip to Japan was rather last-minute and predicated on a desperate need to center himself; when he left, he was not in the best of mental health.

“I’m doing fine,” he says, carefully, and her eyes narrow. He doesn’t know why he bothered to lie, since she’s always been able to see right through him. “Much better than when I left.” That much, at least, is true.

“Shiro.” Her voice is patient, but on the edge of sharp. “I do not need my most popular professor having a breakdown in the middle of class and going on an impromptu year-long sabbatical. The students would revolt.”

He chuckles at the exaggeration. “Everyone would survive, Allura.”

“Maybe, but would you?” The question is pointed enough that he reflexively checks to see if she’s drawn blood. “I’m serious, Shiro. You’re more important than the students, or the school for that matter. I want to make sure your emotional and mental health doesn’t suffer.”

Sighing, he runs a hand over the short hair on the back of his head. “I don’t know, Allura. The trip helped, but nothing is going to erase the memories. I was at least able to do the new painting.”  _ And the sculpture _ , he thinks, but he’s not about to tell Allura about that one. It was enough to put it on his blog, and while his following is minimal, they at least seemed to appreciate the intricacy and detail of the statue. 

“Which the university appreciates,” she tells him, because he’d promptly gifted it to them upon his return. They’re putting it into the upcoming batch of recruiting materials for the fine arts department. “But again, I’m more concerned about you than with how you can benefit the university.”

“Allura, I appreciate the concern,” he tells her, and he does. “But my past isn’t going to change. I won’t suddenly regrow my arm like nothing happened. I have to deal with it, and move on. I can do that. I just… needed some time.”

She casts him a doubtful glance but stands anyway, and he tries not to breathe a sigh of relief. “I’ll take you at your word, for now. But I expect you to keep me abreast of any changes. We will get you the help you need. We just need to know you need it.” Her face shows how fierce her conviction is, and for the first time in a long time, Shiro relaxes despite the topic of conversation. 

“Noted, and appreciated. Thank you, Allura,” he says, tone genuine, and she relaxes as well.

“Of course, Shiro. You’re one of ours, and we owe it to you.” She brushes off her pants and heads for the door. “I’ll stop by again soon. Or maybe we could go for lunch one day next week?”

He finds himself nodding. It’s been awhile since one of their lunch dates, and he misses them. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

She smiles, and purposefully closes the door behind her as she leaves. He suspects it’s her way of telling him to take some time for himself, and he appreciates that as much as the offer to help.

Checking the time, he sees there’s a good hour before his next class. He decides to take a few minutes to check his blog and see if his followers liked the painting. Capturing the tranquility of the cherry blossoms had gone a long way toward soothing his battered soul and frayed nerves, and of all his works, he really wants this one to resonate with people.

He’s surprised to see a new follower request, two new messages, and a dozen notes, just since the last time he checked, before he left for work this morning. His blog is fairly inactive, he only posts when he has a new piece to show off, and he has fewer than two hundred followers. This is probably the most action he’s seen at one time in the past month.

Checking the messages, he’s pleased to see the enthusiastic response to his pieces. He also notes that apparently this person is a fan of Scorpius, which is surprising. He expected the sculpture to be appreciated for its artistic merit, not the subject.

**Titanium_White** : Thank you for the messages, they made my day! I’m a painter first, but sculpting is my second love. 

**Titanium_White** : I’m working on another one, but I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can post it. I hope you don’t mind waiting it out!

**Titanium_White** : Also, yes, I’m a big fan of Scorpius. Their lead singer’s beauty aside, the music is incredible and got me through some tough times. It wasn’t one of their singles, but the fourth track, “Fracture”, really resonated with me at a bad time in my life.

Shiro stops rapid-replying, embarrassment making his face heat when he realizes how he’s completely over-sharing with a stranger. He starts to type an apology, then figures that will just make it worse, so he deletes the reply and closes the site. He has papers to grade, anyway.

But if he smiles a little wider while he does so, no one will know.

\-----

Keith stretches, pleased with his progress. He’s not happy with the second verse, but the chorus is a lock and he thinks the first verse is compelling. He’ll have to run it by everyone on Tuesday, but he thinks the first half, at least, is solid.

He debates logging in to his blog, but in the end he can’t resist seeing if the artist has replied to him. There’s a good chance they're too popular to be bothered with every message that comes their way, or, considering how infrequently they post, they might not even log on again for another couple weeks. But patience isn’t Keith’s best quality, so he decides to try it anyway.

He smiles when he sees that Titanium_White has, indeed, replied, and the smile widens when he actually reads them. The comment on his beauty throws him for a moment, but getting to see the reaction to “Fracture”, his personal favorite on the album, warms him to the core. Fracture had gotten very little attention, which was normal for a non-single, but it’s always spoken to Keith more deeply than any of the others. Knowing it matters to someone else… It’s the kind of thing Keith has always dreamed of accomplishing with his music.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Fracture was definitely the best song on the album! 

He pauses, not sure what else to say. He’s been very careful to keep his blog a place to support artists and fic writers and other fanwork creators without ever divulging his true identity, so he can’t say any of the things he really wants to about the song. He can’t explain that writing it was cathartic for him as well, or that he’s happy to know how his work has touched the artist. He definitely feels weird about trying to build camaraderie by joining in the discussion about how beautiful he is. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : How long have you been a fan? Did you follow them in their early days, when they were still playing bars? Or did you discover them when the album came out?

It doesn’t really matter to him, since a fan is a fan and when they found the band is irrelevant, but he likes to know. 

He’s about to close his laptop when the messenger pings, and he sees that Titanium has responded. 

**Titanium_White** : I’ve actually known about them since before they even started playing the bars. Pidge’s brother is an old college friend of mine and was always giving her grief about being in a garage band with her other friends from detention. Matt and I lost touch a long time ago, but I never forgot about the band, so I would go see a show from time to time. 

Keith blinks. Mystery artist has seen him play in dive bars? That’s unexpected.

**Orions_Nightmare** : You know Pidge? That’s so cool!

He figures if he’s pretending to be a fellow fan, he should be suitably impressed.

**Titanium_White** : Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t know Pidge, I know her brother. I’ve never even met her. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : It’s still cool, though. You have more of a connection to the band than anyone I’ve ever met.

Lie. Total lie. Obviously. But playing a role means a little deception. Keith only feels marginally guilty. It’s not like this is ever going to mean anything. He doesn’t even know if the artist is a guy, or if they’re into guys. He’s just giving a fan a little bit of an ego stroke.

Speaking of which…

He logs into the band’s account and searches his personal one for Titanium’s post, clicks through to their blog, and opens it up to reblog. He studies it for a moment before adding a comment below the image. “This is fucking badass. Go give the artist some love, they definitely deserve it for all the work they obviously put into this masterpiece!”

He hits the reblog button, logs out of the band account, and opens his own again, hoping for another reply. He’s not disappointed.

**Titanium_White** : If you want to consider it a connection, then yes, probably. But it doesn’t amount to anything substantial, so I rarely even think of it. I’m just happy Pidge is doing so well.

Keith debates for a moment on how to continue the conversation, which he desperately does, because he doesn’t think they can get much more mileage out of his semi-connection to Pidge. Thankfully, Titanium saves him the effort of sending the next message.

**Titanium_White** : OMG.

**Orions_Nightmare:** Is that a good OMG or a bad one?

**Titanium_White:** A good one. The Scorpius account just reblogged my statue of Keith. I can’t believe they ever found it, I’m a small blog with not many followers or a lot of attention. This is crazy.

**Orions_Nightmare:** Hey, that’s awesome! You completely deserve it. I’m glad Keith will see how much you put into it, I bet he’s going to be flattered as hell.

**Titanium_White:** You think?

**Orions_Nightmare:** I know.

**Titanium_White:** Thanks, Orion.

Keith pauses, wondering if he should correct Titanium, but it’s not like he can give them his real name. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : You can call me K, actually. It’s easier to type and more accurate.

**Titanium_White:** Thanks, K. You can call me Kuro.

**Orions_Nightmare:** No problem, Kuro. It was nice to meet you, but I have to get back to work. Talk to you later?

It’s the closest he’s been to needy in years, and he’s almost a little embarrassed. But he wants to keep Kuro and his art in his life. They’ve already made him feel more than he has in a long time.

**Titanium_White:** Count on it.

\-----   


**Titanium_White:** K. The Scorpius account followed me. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : Holy shit, that's incredible! But you totally deserve it, your artwork is badass. 

**Titanium_White:** I think I might be in shock. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** I probably would be, too. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Don't forget me when they make you famous! 

**Titanium_White:** I highly doubt that. I'm an art professor from a small, private liberal arts college. I'm not the kind of guy who suddenly becomes a celebrity out of nowhere. 

**Titanium_White:** Also, I doubt I could ever forget you. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Stranger things have happened. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** And I know I'll never forget you. 

\-----

Shiro hums along to “Fracture”, which he hasn’t been able to stop playing on repeat for the past few days, and smiles to himself as he thinks about K. Their friendship has grown exponentially, much faster than he ever imagined. It feels like they can’t go even a few hours without messaging each other these days. Sometimes K takes a little longer to respond, which he always blames on work, but as a result, he never gets crabby when Shiro’s office hours run long or he has to stay late after class to talk to a student.

He narrows his eyes and cocks his head slightly, staring at the hunk of marble that has a half-formed torso and one shaped arm emerging from it, wondering why it doesn’t feel like it’s working. This is supposed to be the next in the Scorpius collection, with Lance and Keith back-to-back, both of them with their heads tipped down while they jam out. But it’s not coming together in his head the way the solo Keith one did.

So he turns, as he does all too frequently recently, to his phone. 

**Titanium_White** : K. Why is this statue not working? Help.

He doesn’t expect an immediate response, but can’t help the little lurch in his chest when a message pops up within seconds.

**Orions_Nightmare** : What’s wrong?

**Titanium_White** : Lance and Keith aren’t cooperating with me.

**Orions_Nightmare** : IDK, isn’t that pretty much par for the course? I mean, according to all the articles and stuff, they bicker all the time.

**Titanium_White** : Maybe you’re right. I’m pairing the wrong subjects.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Why is Keith in this one, anyway? You’ve already done one with him.

Shiro hesitates, then scolds himself for it. His automatic answer would normally be, “Because he’s beautiful and I have this need to immortalize it,” but with the way his feelings for K have grown, he’s not as eager to drool over another man to him.

**Titanium_White** : Because he’s my favorite? I instinctively want to make all my work about him. At least the sculptures. Although I haven’t painted him yet, and I really want to do that, too.

**Orions_Nightmare** : I would really love to see how you paint him.

Shiro makes a mental note to make that his next project.

**Orions_Nightmare** : But maybe you should take a break with him as your subject? You don’t want to burn yourself out. Why don’t you pair Lance with Pidge?

**Titanium_White** : Isn’t that kind of predictable, though? Pairing Lance with the only female in the band?

This time, the answer is longer in coming, and Shiro wonders, as he usually does, what has K’s attention on the other end. It takes so long that he almost considers going back to the marble and reworking it in his head.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Maybe, but that would just make Lance love it more. I bet, anyway. Anyway, I kind of get the feeling there’s something there. 

**Titanium_White** : You think? Pidge has never been interested in relationships. At least according to Matt.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Yeah, but didn’t you tell me you haven’t talked to Matt in years? Things change, and so do people. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : But like I said, it’s just a feeling. The way they sneak looks at each other during interviews and stuff. 

Shiro considers it, and finds that he does remember thinking Pidge kept looking at Lance quite often, and maybe…

**Titanium_White** : You may be right. At any rate, I’ll look at it again, see if Pidge and Lance speak to me better than Keith and Lance did.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Good luck, Kuro.

He frowns, hating more and more that he’d made the impulsive decision to go by his brother’s name rather than his own. It’s not like he’s famous or someone who anyone else would easily recognize if he let his real name slip. It was just the instinctive sense of self-preservation that you never disclose your real identity online to strangers.

**Titanium_White** : Thanks, K. What are you up to, now that you’ve talked me down from my ledge?

**Orions_Nightmare** : Work, work, and more work.

**Titanium_White** : You work too much. It’s not healthy.

**Orions_Nightmare** : LOL Tell that to my manager.

Eyebrows lifting, Shiro sinks down at the kitchen table, having gotten tired of his back-and-forth pacing. 

**Titanium_White** : Manager, huh? What do you do that you have a manager?

**Orions_Nightmare** : Just your normal, boring, 9-5 job. Why? Don’t most people have managers?

The question makes him laugh in embarrassment, even though the only other living creature around is his cat, Leo. Of course regular people have managers. 

**Titanium_White** : I’ve had Scorpius on the brain too much, apparently. My head immediately went to celebrities like musicians and actors, who have people to manage their careers. Not like a boss at work, which of course makes much more sense.

**Orions_Nightmare** : If you’re going to have something on the brain, Scorpius is the best option. BTW, did you hear that Keith teased the new single yesterday?

**Titanium_White** : Yes! And of course it sounds like it’s going to wreck me, as usual. In all the best ways, of course.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Keith’s a lucky guy, then.

**Titanium_White** : What do you mean?

**Orions_Nightmare** : That he gets to wreck you.

Heat blooms in his cheeks and he knows if he was looking in a mirror right now, he’d see the color suffusing his skin. He chews on his lip for a moment, wondering how to respond to the blatantly suggestive words, but when he sees the little gray dots that indicate K is typing, he panics and dashes out the first thing that comes to mind.

**Titanium_White** : K, are you flirting with me?

The gray dots disappear for long enough that Shiro’s panic grows. He’d only wanted to stop K from changing the subject, or apologizing for his words, and now he might have scared him off completely.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Maybe.

**Orions_Nightmare** : But, unfortunately, I have to get back to work. Break time is over. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : Maybe we can resume this discussion later…?

Shiro breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn’t understand how he can feel so strongly about someone he’s never met, someone he’s only “known” for a month and a half, but he can’t ignore how every conversation with K lights a fire in his belly. It doesn’t matter how mundane the topic is, it’s just the feel of getting to exchange messages with the man who started out as his fan and has quickly become a close friend.

**Titanium_White** : I’d like that. I’d really like that.

The only response is a winky emoji, and then he presumes K has put his phone down to go back to work. He doesn’t need to reply to it, anyway.

What he  _ does _ need to do is get his thundering heart back under control. He has no idea what could possibly come of this, but he hasn’t felt this stirring, this fluttery feeling of butterfly wings beating in his chest, in years. 

He has no idea how they could possibly make this work, but he knows for sure that these feelings are worth fighting for.

\-----

**Orions_Nightmare:** You ever wish you could separate the memories of things that hurt you from the way they shape your future?

**Titanium_White:** That's pretty deep, K. Is everything all right? 

**Titanium_White:** And the answer to your question is, more than you could ever know. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** I just can't stop being hit with memories of my ex. Not because I miss him, but because I can't get away from this one song that is basically completely about him. It's everywhere. 

**Titanium_White:** How much should I bet that it's a Scorpius song? 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Nothing, because I can't afford to pay you when you win. It's Fade Out. 

**Titanium_White:** Ouch, you weren't kidding it's everywhere. 

**Titanium_White:** It's a good song for thinking about an ex, apparently, considering it's all about Keith's ex. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Ugh. 

**Titanium_White:** I'm guessing you'd like to not continue this discussion? 

**Orions_Nightmare** : I'd like to not continue discussing my ex. How about you tell me your story? 

**Titanium_White:** My story? 

**Orions_Nightmare:** The one that prompted the "more than you know" response. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Only if you feel comfortable, obviously. 

**Titanium_White:** The short answer is, there was an accident, and I lost my right arm. I got a new one, an electronic prototype, and I had to learn how to do all my art differently. It took some time, but now I'm better than I was before, and my style is remarkably different. I also ended up a more skilled sculptor because my physical therapist thought it would be a good thing to do at home. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Wow. That sounds like a lot to deal with. 

**Titanium_White:** It was. I'm happy with how my art has changed and improved, but I can never look at one of my pieces without thinking about what I lost to get here. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** And we probably never would have met without you having done that sculpture. 

**Titanium_White:** Then it's all been worth it. 

\-----

“I’m just saying, man. You never read the fics about you and Keith, or you and me.”

“Dude. That’s disturbing, of course I’m not going to read those. Ninety percent of them are porn and I have zero interest in reading about me getting intimate with one of you guys’ dicks.”

Keith snorts as he makes his way into the studio. Pidge is, unsurprisingly, missing. There’s no way Hunk and Lance would be having this conversation otherwise. “You catch him reading the link I sent him this morning?”

“And the one you sent him a couple days ago,” Hunk affirms. 

“Our fans are talented,” Lance retorts loftily. “I want to encourage that creativity.”

“But only when the person they write you with is Pidge,” Hunk argues, and Lance scowls. 

Keith’s thoroughly entertained and wants to see how Lance will talk his way out of this one, but Pidge enters the studio just behind him and effectively cuts off all conversation.

“We’re coming back to this,” Hunk mumbles, and Keith just barely catches Lance’s snort of denial. 

“Lotor likes the demo,” Pidge announces as she flops into the bean bag chair. It makes a poofing noise and a few pellets pop out of the beginnings of a split seam. “Although he’s kinda pissed you leaked the first verse, Keith. He hasn’t even decided if that’s the new single yet, and now you have the fans dying for more.”

Hunk snorts. “Isn’t that, y’know? What we  _ want _ to happen?”

“Of course, but Lotor wants it to happen the way  _ he _ plans.” Lance’s tone conveys volumes; Keith can’t disagree. Lotor is a huge pain in the ass, but he’s good at what he does. Keith tolerates him well enough, but for everybody’s well-being, they usually send Pidge to be their ambassador so they can avoid multiple threats to quit the band. Some even by Keith himself. 

“Also, Keith, he wants the story behind the song,” Pidge continues, ignoring Lance’s veiled complaint. “He wants to spin it for marketing.”

“He doesn’t get it.”

They all stop what they’re doing and stare at him, but Keith presses his lips together. He’s never minded sharing his inspirations, although he doesn’t get too detailed during interviews. Lotor allows, even encourages his stoicism because it makes him seem more like a mysterious frontman, and he has Lance for the oversharing, but it’s expected that he’ll at least give the origin story for all their singles. He knows his refusal this time is strange, at least in their eyes, and it’s setting himself up for a battle of wills with Lotor.

But he doesn’t want to share Kuro, or how he feels about the other man. It’s also not like he can come out to the world about meeting an amazing artist online and falling for his words and his talent, not when Kuro doesn’t know he’s part of that story. It would be shoving him from anonymity into the blazing spotlight, because Keith knows more than most how diligent his fans can be at tracking down those little details. Kuro would have no hope of keeping his privacy once Scorpius’s fans figured out who he was.

“Keith? Is there something you maybe want to tell us?” Hunk ventures.

“No, there really isn’t.” He makes steady eye contact with Hunk, who eventually sighs and looks away. “This isn’t a story anyone gets, not this time.”

Pidge sighs, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You realize Lotor is going to be a complete asshole about this, right? He’s going to tell you that you don’t get a right of refusal.”

“He can tell me whatever he wants. The story is mine and I’m not sharing it.” Pidge closes her eyes briefly, then lifts them heavenward as if begging for divine assistance, so Keith slings an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll fight with Lotor over it, okay? I promise you won’t have to deal with him.”

“Good luck with that,” she grumbles. “As soon as he realizes he can’t budge you, he’s going to double down on nagging me to get you to cave.”

Keith knows she’s not wrong, but he’s saved from answering when his phone chimes. He can’t keep the stupid grin from spreading over his face as he reaches for it, and he hears a quick intake of breath behind him.

“Ahh. That’s the story.”

“What do you mean, Hunk?” he hears Lance ask, his voice full of confusion. 

“Don’t worry about it, Lance. We’ll get it eventually,” Pidge reassures him, and he glances over to catch her studying him intently. He pleads with his eyes for her to stay quiet, and she mimes zipping her lips. “Keith can’t hold out on us forever.”

_ Not forever. Just long enough to figure out if I’m ready to tell Kuro who I am. _

\-----

**Orions_Nightmare:** Holy shit. Kuro, that's beyond fucking incredible.

**Titanium_White:** You like it? 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Gee, what gave it away? 

**Titanium_White:** I'd say sarcasm doesn't become you, but I'm fairly certain everything becomes you. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Flatterer. But seriously, that is literally a work of art. I told you that you needed to paint Keith, I'm glad you listened. 

**Titanium_White** : I wonder if Keith will see this one, too? 

**Orions_Nightmare:** I guarantee it. The band account follows you, remember? 

**Titanium_White:** That doesn't mean they're going to see it amidst all the random things that show up on their dash. Especially considering I bet they have a lot more to do with their time than check the account that often. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Pessimist. I bet it'll be less than 24 hours before it's on their page. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** But back to the painting. I think it's phenomenal. I love that it's not what you'd expect. 

**Titanium_White** : What do you mean? 

**Orions_Nightmare:** The obvious portrait would be him on stage, rocking out, wearing stage clothes. Instead you have him in a quiet moment, eyes closed, wearing sweats and a plain tee, earbuds in and tuning out the world. I doubt anyone really thinks of him like that, but you see it. 

**Titanium_White:** He's said before in interviews that he's completely different offstage, more of an introvert. I just had this image in my head of him wanting to get away from all the chaos and the artifice of false hero worship. I wanted to show him as I imagine he really is, when all the rest of it is stripped away. 

**Titanium_White:** You went quiet. Are you still with me? 

**Orions_Nightmare:** After that? Always. 

\-----

“That’s lovely, Shiro. What is it?”

Shiro glances up as Allura lets herself into his office, then back down at the design he’s finishing up on paper. “You remember me telling you about that band I like, Scorpius? I have a friend who’s a fan as well. I’m making this as a gift for him.”

He’s proud of the design, which he thinks K is going to love. It’s simple in that it’s the constellation of Scorpius, but he added a unique twist of drawing the “stars” as eighth notes. He’d found a red leather cuff bracelet a couple weeks ago that he impulsively purchased with K in mind, but it hadn’t seemed like enough, so he hasn’t mailed it yet. (He’d asked for K’s address, though, which he was honestly a little surprised that K had offered up. They haven’t known each other  _ that _ long, and Shiro appreciates K showing such trust in him.) The design he’s now perfecting on paper will be hand-drawn onto the bracelet.

“How good of a friend is he?” 

Her brow arches, and Shiro debates how honest he wants to be with her. “He’s a very good friend. I care about him quite a bit.”

"Ah." There's a knowing lilt to her voice, but Shiro doesn't acknowledge it. He knows she won't tease him, but he's still not ready to put his feelings into words. 

It would just help if he knew what those feelings were. 

"We've been friends for a few months now, and he's a big fan of my work. That's how we met. I wanted to make him a personalized gift, something that will remind him of me when he wears it." What he doesn't say is that he hopes K wears it all the time. From the look Allura gives him, he doesn't have to. 

"He's a lucky man in more ways than one, then." She gives him a fond smile. "Is he the reason you're smiling more often these days? If so, I'd like to include a gift of my own to show my gratitude."

Shiro gives her a Look, and she chuckles. “I don’t even know how he’s going to feel about this gift. He gave me his address willingly enough, but it’s a post office box, so it’s not like he had much to be concerned about.”

“Did he give you his real name?” she prompts, and he frowns.

“He did.” But it didn’t feel right. “Kyle James. It’s odd, but he never struck me as a Kyle.” The reason is incredibly embarrassing, and he’s ashamed to admit that he’s conflated K with Keith. He imagines it’s due to the fact that they talk about Scorpius a lot, and something about the cadence of K’s… Kyle’s “speech” patterns in text remind him of the way Keith speaks during interviews, but either way, he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling.

It’s stupid, and he would never admit it to Kyle because he doesn’t think Kyle would take it as a compliment.

“It’s a nice name,” Allura says diplomatically, and Shiro hears,  _ but it’s plain. _

And that’s why it doesn’t suit him. Kyle is larger than life, and he’s wrapped Shiro around his little finger in just a couple short months. Shiro knows he could never be captivated by someone plain. 

“Do you plan to meet him?” she continues, and Shiro shakes himself out of his thoughts. He’s been hung up on the name thing for a week now, it’s time to get over it. “I’d like to, but he’s a little hesitant. I was going to ask him to the Scorpius concert in a couple weeks, but he said he’s going to be out of town for work for a whole month. I thought maybe when he gets back, I could suggest doing something low-key.”

She nods. “That sounds like a good plan. I hope it works out for you, Shiro. You deserve some happiness in your life.” 

He smiles ruefully. “I hope it works out, too. Now, why don’t you tell me what brought you to my office?”

Rolling her eyes, she settles down into his empty chair. “One of the other professors is complaining that his class load runs smaller than yours.”

“That’s a complaint?” he scoffs, snorting, and she sighs heavily.

“It’s jealousy. He’s mad that your classes have such high enrollments that we have to open up more sections.”

“Let me guess, Slav?”

Her smile thins out into something flat. “Got it in one.”

“Tell him if he wasn’t so ridiculously obnoxious, more students would want to enroll.”

She giggles. “Much as I’d love to, Shiro, it would be out of line for me to say something. As the dean.”

Shiro sees where she’s going with this. “No way. You’re not inducing me to have a conversation with him if I don’t actually have to.”

He knows he’s doomed when she lifts her head, a pleading, hopeful expression on her face. “Just a short one.”

“You might end up with two professors missing arms,” Shiro mutters, but the glee in her grin softens him. “I’ll see if I can smooth things over.”

“I’ll have a talk with him as well,” she promises, standing again, “but I wanted you to use your legendary charm and powers of persuasion on him.”

“You know he’s the one person I’ve never been able to charm,” Shiro sighs, but he waves her out. “Go on, soften him up a little, then I’ll try to do some damage control.”

“Thank you, Shiro.” Allura nods at the drawing. “And don’t worry, he’ll love it. It’s thoughtful, unique, and personal. I can’t imagine there’s anyone on earth who  _ wouldn’t _ love it.”

Shiro stares down at the drawing, the stars winking brightly up at him. He hopes it means as much to Kyle as it does to him. He hopes  _ he _ means as much to Kyle as Kyle does to him.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been disappointed, but he doesn’t want to believe this is just the latest in a string of disasters in his life. Worse, he can’t stand the thought of being a disappointment to Kyle. Frowning, he grips the silver pen a little harder and leans in to put down the last few details. If he is, it won’t be because he didn’t try.

\-----

**Orions_Nightmare:** Kuro. I don't know what to say. 

**Titanium_White:** About…? 

**Orions_Nightmare:** The bracelet. It's incredible. I never want to take it off. 

**Titanium_White:** I'd recommend taking it off in the shower, at least. I can't vouch for the waterproofing on the ink. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : Smartass. But seriously, it's the most thoughtful gift I've ever been given. I'm going to wear it everywhere, and everyone is going to be so jealous. They're all going to want to know where I got it and I'm going to tell them it doesn't matter because it's one of a kind and it's  _ mine _ . 

**Titanium_White** : Just tell them it's from an admirer. It's the truth. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** The bracelet isn't the only thing that's one of a kind. You're special, Kuro. And I'd rather have you than anything you can give me. 

**Titanium_White:** That's easy enough. I'm already yours. 

\-----

“Thanks for coming over tonight,” Pidge calls over her shoulder as Keith lets himself into her and Matt’s apartment. Matt’s out for the night with a friend, and Pidge asked him to come over and help her fine-tune the keyboard part for the song he’s working on. It’s something different than their usual songs, just him singing and her playing, but it came to him and demanded to be written.

“No problem,” he says, sticking his head in the kitchen. “How’s it coming?” 

She frowns a little, gesturing at the keyboard sitting on the granite island and the messy collection of papers spread out all around it. “It’s coming, but not easily. I’m not feeling this one the way you are. I thought maybe you could sing what you have written and I could get a better feel for where you want to go with it.”

He hops up on the island after shoving aside a stack of papers, and starts humming the first verse. She gives him a Look. “I said sing, not hum.”

Shrugging, Keith grabs the bag of chips sitting out and stuffs a few in his mouth. “You wanted the melody. I gave you the melody.”

Pidge folds her arms over her chest and studies him. “Is there a reason you’ve become so recalcitrant about your songs lately? You know you can’t hide anything from me.” She nods at his wrist. “Like that nifty new bracelet you’ve been sporting. I know that’s not something you randomly picked up online, that’s handcrafted and one of a kind. I’m guessing it’s a gift from that artist you keep reblogging on the band’s page?”

His mouth falls open and he stares at her, unmindful of the fact that she’s wrinkling her nose at his display of chewed-up chips. “How in the world could you possibly have guessed that?”

“Come on, Keith.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re on your phone constantly, typing up a storm with a smile on your face, when you used to hate your phone with a passion. All of a sudden this artist keeps showing up on our blog and you can’t stop raving about his work. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots, but I am, in fact, a genius. So it was easy.”

He swallows, deciding it’s time to stop trying to keep everything a secret. “Yeah, it’s a gift from Kuro.”

“Kuro? Matt used to have a friend with a brother named Kuro. That’s not exactly a common name.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “I’d forgotten that he mentioned he used to be a friend of Matt’s. He told me he’d never met you, so I never thought to ask you about him.”

Pidge gives him a quizzical look. “Kuro and Matt were never friends. They didn’t get along the best. I always suspected, at least from what Matt said, that Kuro was jealous of all the time Matt spent with Shiro, Kuro’s brother.” Her eyes widen. “And now that I think about it, Shiro was the artist. Not Kuro. Kuro was the athlete.”

“Are you sure?” Keith’s heart races a little; it’s very possible that Shiro is the one he’s been falling head over heels for over the last couple months. He wouldn’t blame Shiro for giving him a false name; after all, Keith had done it himself. He still winces every time Shiro addresses him as “Kyle”, but doesn’t know how to stop it without being completely honest. And that is something he’s not completely ready for.

“Here, let me go dig through my old albums.” She races out of the kitchen and then comes back a few minutes later, dropping the heavy leather albums on the dining room table. “Come here.”

He jumps off the counter and makes his way to the dining room, plopping down in the seat closest to the albums. “I didn’t know anyone still kept things like this. Why don’t you just save everything to Instagram?”

“Because, you troglodyte, Instagram is ‘now’, it’s trendy. It’s not long-lasting. Albums are something you can sit and pore through, page by page, taking your time to enjoy it, and not having to worry about accidentally liking a pic from forty-two weeks ago.”

“Point taken.” He flips open the first album, smiling at a toddler Matt and baby Pidge. “Aww, look at you two!”

She leans over and flips rapidly through several pages. “We’re not here to admire my adorableness as a child. We’re looking for Shiro and Kuro.”

“You know I’ve never actually seen a picture of him, right?” Keith asks her, and she stops, turning to stare at him in bafflement. 

“How? How can you possibly have fallen so hard for someone you’ve never seen?”

He can feel a blush rising to his cheeks, and her eyes widen in glee. Before she can even open her mouth to tease him, he cuts her off. “I think it’s  _ because _ I’ve never seen him that I could fall for him. He likes me for who I am, and I like him for who he is. There’s no preconceived notions based on our looks or our… careers.”

“You still haven’t told him who you are?”

He shakes his head miserably. “No, and now I’m afraid to.”

She sighs, leaning her chin into one tiny palm. “You know that’s going to come back and bite you in the ass, right?”

“Yes.” Damn it, he does know that. “But I don’t see you being any braver with Lance.”

His attempt to reroute the conversation away from his own pathetic relationship status backfires immediately. 

“Fuck Lance.”

“Katie Holt!” He tsks at her, and she throws the near-empty chip bag at him. “Language, young lady.”

She scowls, flopping backward into her chair. “Lance is nothing but a playboy and I have no idea why it matters to me. At all. He’s never going to grow up, and he’s never going to see what’s right in front of his face because all he can see is all the gorgeous women throwing themselves at him.”

He knows he’s going to regret this, but… “You’d be surprised.”

“By Lance?” She snorts. “I highly doubt that.”

“Give him a chance.” It goes against everything in his nature to say it, but he’s seen the looks they’ve been trading for the past year. They just need someone to help them, and as Pidge’s best friend, and their front man, he figures it’s his responsibility.  “Lance is, as much as it pains me to say this, a good guy. He just needs someone to pull his head out of his ass for him from time to time.”

Her glance flicks to her phone, and he can see indecision wavering on her face. “Maybe I’ll text him. Later. For now, let’s work on this song of yours for Shiro.”

“I told you it’s Kuro.”

Pidge gives him a baleful, unimpressed stare. “I love you, Keith, but you’re stupid.”

“At least you love me anyway.” He reaches over to ruffle her hair, loosening it from its ponytail, and she swats at his hand. “And you’re brilliant on the keyboard?”

She sniffs. “I’m brilliant at everything. Now come on. I need those lyrics.”

\-----

**Titanium_White** : I wish you didn’t have to go out of town this week. I’d have loved to take you to the Scorpius concert.

**Orions_Nightmare:** That would definitely have been an experience.

**Titanium_White** : Maybe the next time they play here, you’ll be available.

**Orions_Nightmare:** As soon as they put their next tour schedule up, I’ll put in a no-travel request, how does that sound?

**Titanium_White:** Sounds great, but please tell me you’re not going to make me wait that long to meet you. 

**Orions_Nightmare** : LOL, I promise. But, I feel like there are some things we need to talk about before we meet.

**Titanium_White:** That sounds ominous.

**Orions_Nightmare:** It’s not bad, I promise. Or at least, I hope you won’t think so. I just haven’t been entirely honest about myself, and I have to be.

**Titanium_White:** That’s fair, actually. I haven’t been entirely honest about myself, either. I didn’t give you my real first name.

**Orions_Nightmare:** And I didn’t give you mine. It’s okay. We both had reason to be protective of our identities when we first met, but I think now it’s time to move past that.

**Titanium_White:** I agree. So, what do you want to tell me?

**Orions_Nightmare:** Can we talk about it when I get back? It’s a lot to get into right now, and I have to head out to meet my team.

**Titanium_White:** I can wait. I’ve waited this long already, and you’re worth waiting forever for.

**Orions_Nightmare:** Wow. 

**Titanium_White:** Too much?

**Orions_Nightmare:** Never. I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have met you.

**Titanium_White:** I feel the same way, K. I look forward to talking with you when you get back.

**Orions_Nightmare:** Same… I guess I can’t really call you Kuro anymore, can I? I know that’s not your name.

**Titanium_White:** Shiro. My name is Shiro.

\-----

"Why in the world did you feel the need to drag me to this?" Allura yells, wrinkling her nose at the sheer volume of the opening act. "This isn't my type of music at all!" 

"I know," Shiro yells back, making an apologetic face. "But you're also the last good friend I have!" 

It's not said with the intent to make Allura feel guilty, but from her expression, that's exactly how she feels. Shiro doesn't like to bring attention to the fact that all his former friends abandoned him after the accident, but Allura is the one person who knows that better than anyone. She's the one who came to his apartment to drag him out and socialize when all he wanted to do was wallow. 

"I suppose I can suffer for an evening, if it keeps you from being alone," she concedes with a sigh that he sees more than hears. "Although I'll be exceedingly grateful when you finally meet your K and he starts accompanying you to future concerts."

_ You're not the only one.  _ His gaze skims the crowd, most of whom are far younger than him, with the exception of a handful of women who look about the right age to be Little League moms. They look woefully out of place, but they don't appear to care in the least, which Shiro can appreciate. It serves as a nice reminder that he's not dead yet, and there's still a lot of life left to be lived, and enjoyed. 

Allura gestures that she’s heading to the bar and he nods, winding his way through the crowd to find an empty table near the back of the venue. Scorpius won’t be on for another hour, at least, and the opening act isn’t good enough to fight for a position near the stage. He keeps an eye on Allura so that when she gets their drinks, he can catch her attention.

Instead, he watches as an elegant man with long, silvery-white hair eases up beside her, sending the bartender scurrying their way. There’s something familiar about him, but not enough to spark immediate recognition. Instead, Shiro watches in amusement as the man orders two drinks, turns and hands one to Allura, and leans in. Shiro tenses slightly, waiting for an indication that Allura isn’t comfortable with the man’s presence, but she colors slightly and tips her head, smiling up at him, and he relaxes again.

While he’s waiting, he takes the time to scroll back through his message thread with K, smiling to himself at the steady growth from fans to friends to something he never could have expected, or even imagined. Sometimes he wonders if he’s dreamt this all because it feels so unbelievable, but as he re-reads K’s messages, he knows that he could never dream up something half so wonderful.

“That’s a lovely smile you’re wearing."

Shiro glances up as Allura slides onto the stool opposite him, setting down his vodka and lime. “I’m just thinking.”

Her eyes twinkle. “And I’m certain I don’t have to guess who you’re thinking about.”

He ducks his head sheepishly. “There’s not much competition for top billing in my thoughts these days, is there?”

“No.” She takes a sip of her martini and smiles again. “But that’s a beautiful thing, and something to be happy about, so I say to let yourself enjoy it.”

“Speaking of which, who’s the guy at the bar?”

Allura blushes a little, lowering her gaze. “His name is Lotor. He seems kind.”

“And handsome?” Shiro teases, but he keeps his tone light. She lifts her glass in a toast.

“Very much so.”

He lets it go at that, and they fall into chatting about work-related things while they wait for the opening act to finish. Once the noise of the music is gone it feels absurdly quiet, even with the sound of all the concert-goers talking, yelling, scraping chairs, cheering their drinking friends on, and so forth. 

Shiro check his watch and realizes they’re about fifteen minutes out from Scorpius taking the stage. “I want to head up to the front so I can get a good view of the rest of the concert. Do you want to go with me, or do you want to stay here?”

She waves him off. “I’m perfectly happy to sit back here and let you navigate the crowd.”

“I’ll see you after the show, then.” He drops a kiss to the top of her head and makes his way up to the stage area, using his considerable size to subtly move his way through the throngs of people attempting to crowd their way up to the railing.

This isn't the first time he's been to a Scorpius concert, but it's the first time he's been to a big one. The last couple he went to were in dive bars, like he'd told K, and the noise and energy level weren't even close to comparable. Beyond his infatuation with Keith (though lessened now by his infatuation with K), he's proud of their success. Despite never having met Pidge in person, he's always felt like he knows her through Matt. 

He misses Matt. He should probably make an effort to track him down. 

Those thoughts splinter as the lights go down and the roar of the crowd swells. In the dark, Shiro can see the faint outline of the band members entering the stage from the curtain to the right. Strobe lights pulse, Lance's electric guitar screams, Hunk's drums ring out, Pidge joins in with a trill of her keyboard, and then everything goes quiet. The crowd collectively holds their breath, and the silence is almost eerie. 

Then, Keith's voice floats out, soft as a whisper, and chills race through Shiro's spine and over his skin. 

"I promised you when you said goodbye, you'd regret it 'til the day you died."

Everyone around Shiro starts screaming, singing along with the first verse of "Fade Out". Shiro finds himself pulled along into the tidal wave of chaos, singing at the top of his lungs and jumping at the railing along with the crush of bodies around him. There's a body surfing through the crowd before the song is even half over, and Shiro ducks, getting underneath it to push it along to the next set of waiting hands. One girl rips her bra off and throws it at Lance, who glances at Pidge apologetically before nudging it aside with his toe. 

_ Huh _ , Shiro thinks, taking in Pidge’s small smile and Lance’s soft one in return.  _ I guess K was on to something with those two. _

They go straight from "Fade Out" to "Moving On", and then on to "Radio Silence", their most recent single, before they finally take a break and the lights lift a little. Everyone is sweaty already; Keith's hair is wet and curling around his neck, his face shiny. He lifts the edge of his shirt to swipe it across his forehead, revealing toned and equally sweaty abs. 

Despite the fact that everyone knows he's gay, the women in the audience scream their approval. Shiro would join them if his voice wasn't stuck in his throat. He's always thought of Keith as beautiful, but in this moment, he's ethereal. He's exquisite. And Shiro is lost. 

"Hey, San Diego! How's our hometown crowd  _ doing _ tonight?" The noise level increases to an unholy number of decibels, and Keith grins, rendering Shiro breathless. Keith never smiles during interviews, only when performing. Shiro had forgotten how much more beautiful it makes him. 

"We're so excited to play for you tonight! We specifically told our manager you needed to be our first tour stop, and he was an ass about it like usual," and here there's uproarious laughter, "but he gave in. You guys are the best, and we can't wait to give you a night to remember!" 

The screams rise as they go into the opening riff of "Hurt Me Again", and Shiro leans into the railing, trying to get closer. Pidge glances down, and when he makes eye contact with her she does a double take, going wide-eyed. Her gaze flickers to Keith and Shiro's confused by the open worry he sees in them. Then she looks back at him, smiles, and even waves a little. Shiro presumes she recognizes him from all the pictures he and Matt had taken, and he waves back. 

"You lucky fucker," the guy next to him yells over the music. "Pidge is hot!" 

"She's also a family friend, so keep your next comments PG if you want to keep your teeth!" he yells back, and the guy gives him a wary look before easing down the railing line. 

They go through several more songs before the music stops and Keith takes a deep breath. “This next one isn’t one of our singles, but it’s the one that has always meant the most to me of all the songs I’ve written. I’ve recently learned that it means the world to someone who’s very important to me, and that makes it even more special. I hope you love this song as much as we do.”

Shiro knows, before the first chord, that they’re going to play "Fracture". He closes his eyes and holds his breath as Keith croons his way through the first verse, but when he starts into the chorus, Shiro opens his eyes and sings along, pouring his entire heart and soul into the words. 

___See me now_  
___See how I mend the cracks deep in my soul_  
___Watch me hold myself together_  
___When I feel like I’m falling apart_  
___When you left_  
___You thought I would be lost on my own_  
__But you didn’t know_  
_ __ I’m all I need to heal this fractured heart…

__

Emotion clogs his throat and he can feel his eyes grow watery, but he clamps down on it because he  _ refuses _ to cry in front of everyone. Keith shifts on stage and then he’s facing Shiro, and it’s almost like they’re drawn together. Keith looks at him and sees the struggle on his face; he smiles at Shiro as he goes into the next verse, and Shiro can’t look away. 

Keith keeps glancing at him throughout the remainder of the song, and Shiro can hardly believe he’s managed to capture the singer’s attention. It doesn’t mean anything, it can’t, but he loves it all the same. It’s only when the song ends that he feels the spell break, and then two things happen simultaneously. 

The first is that Pidge hisses, loud enough for both Keith and Shiro to hear, “Keith! That’s him!” They both look at her in confusion, and she stares at Keith with urgency in her eyes while she nods frantically at Shiro. 

The second is that Keith raises his right arm, which had been mostly hidden from Shiro up until now because he’s more to Keith’s left, to wipe the back of his arm over his forehead. And as Shiro wonders at the oddity of Pidge’s actions, he zeroes in on the large cuff bracelet on Keith’s right wrist. Keith drops his arm enough for Shiro to see a very unique version of the Scorpius constellation, drawn in music notes over the dark red of the leather.

He can see, he can  _ feel _ , the moment when Keith realizes who he is, and that Shiro knows who he is in return. 

He can feel the blood drain from his face to his feet, his heart beating faster until he feels faint, and he can see Keith staring at him, his expression likely similar to the one Shiro knows he’s wearing.

He can hear, faintly, Keith crying out, “Shiro!” as he turns, pushing people out of his way and stumbling away from the stage. 

\-----

**Orions_Nightmare:** Shiro, I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to find out like that.

**Orions_Nightmare:** I promise I was going to tell you. I even told you before the show that I needed to be honest with you about who I was.

**Orions_Nightmare:** I didn’t know you’d be there or I would have told you beforehand, no matter how hard it was.

**Orions_Nightmare:** Shiro, please talk to me. I’m sorry.

**Orions_Nightmare:** I know this has to feel like a betrayal, but I want to explain why I wasn’t honest upfront.

**Orions_Nightmare:** Are you ever going to speak to me again?

**Orions_Nightmare:** Shiro. Please.

\-----

“Why the hell is emo boy still moping?” Lance whispers, and Keith wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he doesn’t have the energy. “He’s been like this for two solid months.”

“Maybe because he screwed up, big time, and hasn’t been able to fix it because we’ve been on tour?” Hunk suggests, and Keith wants to tell  _ him _ to shut the fuck up, but again, he doesn’t have the energy.

“Maybe you all should stop fucking talking like I’m not here,” he says anyway, voice weary, and they both shut up. Everyone knows the story by now--Lance wheedled it out of Pidge, and immediately told Hunk. Keith wants to blame Pidge for being in the throes of new love and letting his love life become pillow talk, but honestly, it would have come out sooner or later. At least this way he didn’t have to be the one to tell the tale.

Pidge gives him a sympathetic look before thumping Lance on the back of the head. Despite himself, Keith smiles half-heartedly. He’s glad that the change in their relationship status didn’t make a difference in the way they all worked together as a band. “Keith feels enough like shit as it is. Stop making him feel worse.”

“Why don’t you just apologize?” Lance asks, and Keith glares at him.

“I have. Multiple times. But he won’t talk to me.”

Which, to be fair, Keith doesn’t blame him. He’s sure Shiro understands that Keith had a legitimate reason not to be open about his identity right from the start, but the fact that he kept it a secret for so long, even as they fell for each other, is something altogether different. 

"So apologize publicly," Hunk suggests, with a shrug. "Make it something he can't ignore." 

"That wouldn't be fair to him," Keith protests. "Our fans would turn rabid and make him into the bad guy."

Lance rolls his eyes. "Then don't tell anyone who he is. Duh. Just say you fucked up with someone and you want a chance to apologize. Then he'll come to you."

"Lance, I've already apologized. Doing the same thing publicly isn't going to change his mind." He wraps his arms around his legs and tucks his face into his knees, not wanting to see the worried looks they're exchanging. 

“Then don’t do the same thing.” The voice this time is Pidge, and the words come slow. Keith lifts his face, prying one eye open to watch her face as her evil little genius brain plots. “Use the song.”

Hunk glances back and forth between them. “What song?”

Pidge pats Keith knee. “Keith wrote a song for Shiro before the tour started. I finally perfected the piano accompaniment a couple weeks ago.”

“So  _ that’s _ what you’ve been working on before bed!” Lance realizes. “You know you could have just told me.”

She looks at Keith. “It wasn’t really mine to share, and I wouldn’t have said anything now except I think it’s Keith’s best shot at fixing this mess.”

“I think you’re right,” Keith admits, but he doesn’t have much hope that it will yield any different results. “What do you suggest?”

“We’ve got three days until we’re home. I think you and I should practice it every spare moment we get, and when we get home, we drop a new video.”

He stares at her, skeptical. “You really think Lotor will be okay with that?”

Pidge’s eyes gleam. “Leave Lotor to me. We’re going to win back your man.”

\-----

**Orions_Nightmare** : I know you’re still angry with me, and I don’t blame you. But please, if there’s any part of you that still cares about me, please watch this. If you still don’t want anything to do with me after, I’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone.

**Orions_Nightmare:** But God, Shiro. I miss you. So much.

\-----

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Shiro looks wearily into Allura’s concerned face. “It’s fine, Allura. I don’t expect you to not go on a date with someone you like just because he’s connected to someone I’d like to forget about.”

She perches on the edge of his desk and gently covers his human hand with her own. “I know that he hurt you, Shiro. But maybe it’s time to let him share his side of things.”

He can feel himself withdrawing, and from the look on her face, she can see it. “He lied to me, Allura. He misled me and made me believe he actually cared about me, when the whole time, he was probably just getting off on the fact that he had some unknowing fan drooling all over him.”

The look she gives him tells him she doesn’t believe that, and she doesn’t think he does, either. “I believe you’re making a mistake, Shiro, but it’s your decision to make.” She rises to leave, but before she steps out of the door, she pauses and turns back. “Lotor mentioned the band posted a new video. I believe it would be of interest to you.”

“I’m not interested,” he says quietly, his tone final, and she nods before leaving his office.

He lasts all of ten minutes after she leaves, pretending that grading his freshmen’s art analysis papers is the only thing on his mind, before he opens his blog. He hasn’t been on it much, because he’s only human, and ignoring all of Keith’s messages has been hell on him. 

There are only three new ones since the last time he opened and immediately closed the chat feature, in an effort to clear the notifications so they’re not a constant reminder. He doesn’t know whether to be hurt or grateful there are only three. He must have given up, which is what Shiro has told himself he’s wanted this whole time, but the knowledge feels like a gaping wound.

He opens up the chat thread and intends to close it just as quickly, but the fact that one of the messages is a link to the band’s site makes him pause. He reluctantly skims the other messages and swears under his breath. Of course he still cares about Keith. Every part of him still cares about Keith.

Closing his eyes, he lets out a rush of breath and clicks the link.

"Hey everyone, it's Keith from Scorpius. I have a new video for you today--actually, no, that's not true. I have a video for an incredible man, but I really fucked up and he isn't speaking to me, so you all get to see it because putting it out for the public is my best chance for  _ him _ to actually see it."

Shiro's eyes snap open at the last, his breath trapped in his lungs as he eagerly takes in Keith's beautiful face. Knowing the man he'd fallen head over heels for is the same one he's been half in love with for the past two years is the only good thing about this whole nightmare. He watches as Keith takes his place in front of a lone mic in the middle of an empty room, and the overwhelming sense of loneliness emanating from both the video and the man makes him want to reach through the screen and hold Keith close.

A piano starts up in the background, playing what Shiro recognizes to be minor chords, giving the song a dark and melancholic feel. Keith stands there for several bars, eyes closed, a wistful smile just barely tipping his lips up at the corners. Finally, when Shiro thinks he can't stand it another second, Keith opens his mouth and sings. 

___In the echoes of the emptiness inside me_  
___Sang a song of bitter isolation_  
___As I twisted and screamed through the madness_  
__You were there waiting_  
_ ___You were there waiting_

The raw, emotional quality of Keith's voice tears at him. Everyone knows Keith's the song writer, and all of his lyrics come from his own experiences. There's no question the throaty ache is personal, genuine, not an affectation. 

___I didn't know what to look for_  
___I didn't know how to listen_  
___I gave up on myself along the way_  
__But then I found you_  
_ ___And I forgot that I'd ever been lost_

The chorus sends chills skittering down his neck and across his shoulders, making him shiver as he leans forward, getting as close to the monitor as his eyes will allow. 

His eyes track the shadows under Keith's eyes as he sings the second verse, noting how blood-shot the whites are. One of Keith's hands grips the mic stand while the other clenches around the mic itself, and as Shiro studies him, he can see how white-knuckled he is. He's holding on to the mic to hold himself together. 

Keith stops singing, his chest rising and falling like he's just run a mile, but Pidge's piano continues in the background for several bars. As the final notes swell into the emptiness of the room and then slowly die away, Keith opens his eyes and looks into the camera.

"I don't know if I deserve a second chance, but God, I'm begging. Please don't give up on me, Shiro."

The video goes to black and Shiro sits back in his chair, feeling emotionally drained. The song was beautiful, haunting, and clearly about him. The one thought that had tortured him was that he was an amusement to Keith, someone never to be taken seriously, but now he knows better. He can't interpret that song any other way. 

Shiro scrolls down to the comments out of curiosity, breaking his number one rule of never reading the comments, and winces.

"This Shiro better man the fuck up, is all I have to say."

"God, I wish Keith was singing that song to me."

"Fuck this shit, I can write way better songs. Check out my SoundCloud."

He snorts; that, at least, is predictable. 

Now he just has to decide. Is he ready to give Keith a chance to hurt him again? 

\-----

**Titanium_White:** I listened to the song. It’s stunning.

**Orions_Nightmare** : Thank you. I didn’t know if you would.

**Titanium_White:** You made a pretty convincing plea.

**Orions_Nightmare** : That was all Pidge. She’s apparently a hopeless romantic. Who knew?

**Titanium_White:** Matt always kind of suspected. I take it she and Lance are finally together? At the… At the concert, they looked pretty into each other.

**Orions_Nightmare:** Yes, finally. That was all her, too. She told Lance to nut up or shut up.

**Titanium_White** : LMAO Why am I not surprised?

**Orions_Nightmare** : Because Pidge can, and will, do whatever she damn well pleases.

**Orions_Nightmare:** I probably better get back to work. It was nice to hear from you, Shiro.

**Titanium_White:** Wait, that’s it? You put all that effort into getting me to hear your song and now you don’t even want to talk?

**Orions_Nightmare:** I didn’t want to assume anything. 

**Titanium_White:** Thank you for that, but I want to talk to you. Fuck, Keith, I miss you so much.

**Orions_Nightmare:** I miss you too, Shiro. 

**Titanium_White:** Can I see you? Can we get dinner or go for a walk, or something? 

**Orions_Nightmare** : Whatever you want, I’m all yours. Always have been.

**Titanium_White:** Tomorrow night? The River Walk, at eight?

**Orions_Nightmare:** I’ll be there.

\-----

Keith doesn’t think he’s ever been more nervous in his life, and that includes approaching his first agent with their demo tape, their first interview, hell, their first show. He knows Shiro cares about him, but so much has happened and they’re on rocky footing right now. He wants--no,  _ needs _ \--this night to go perfectly. 

"Hello, Keith."

He turns, and loses his breath a little. He hadn't had a chance at the concert to fully appreciate how breathtakingly gorgeous Shiro is, not when all he could focus on was how badly his life was falling apart right in front of him, but now… Now he can't stop looking. And drooling. 

Shiro is tall, with broad shoulders and a broader chest, arms thick as tree stumps, surprisingly sexy silver hair, and a smile that's soft enough to rival kitten fur. Shiro's nothing like his usual type, but has proven to be everything he could want. Which makes him even more terrified of losing the love of his life before ever really having him.

He realizes he's been looking (and drooling) far longer than appropriate when Shiro gives him a benevolent smirk. 

"Be careful, or you're going to make me feel like a piece of meat," Shiro says mildly. 

Keith flushes just a bit as he shoots back, "Welcome to the club. Better get used to it." 

Shiro raises a silver-white eyebrow and Keith snaps his mouth shut. "And why is that?" 

He didn't expect their moment of reckoning to come in the first two minutes, but better now than waiting an hour. "Because if you're going to be a part of my life, you'll be tabloid fodder. You'll be objectified, lied about, insulted, attacked, and fawned over endlessly. You can expect prying questions about your arm, and the accident. As long as you're a person of interest to me, you'll be a person of interest to our fans, and the media."

He waits, anxious, as Shiro appears to mull it over. "You make it sound so appealing." His voice is dry, and Keith snorts. 

"It's not," he admits bluntly. "But there are times it's worth it."

"Like when?" 

Keith takes a deep breath and steps forward, sagging in relief when Shiro's arms slide easily around his waist and pull him in. He rests his head on Shiro's chest and allows himself a few moments to revel in the feel of being held by the man he's fallen for, irrevocably. Shiro indulges the silence, waiting patiently for an answer. 

When his thoughts are sorted and his heart's slowed from racing speed to something more controlled, he shifts in Shiro's arms and loops his own around Shiro's neck. "Well, every once in awhile, I come across incredibly talented artists. And, even more rarely, those incredible artists become incredible friends. And more."

"That better be more than rare." Shiro's eyes twinkle, his mouth soft and inviting. Keith doesn't think before he lifts up on his toes and proceeds to kiss the breath out of him. 

"Don't worry, Shiro," he murmurs as he pulls away, skimming the backs of his fingers across Shiro's jaw. "You are a once-in-a-lifetime experience."

\-----

**Titanium_White:** Could you stop by the grocery store on the way home from the studio? We're out of Scarlet and Ebony's favorite cat food. 

**Orions_Nightmare:** Sure. We just need to lay this final track down and then we'll be done. Do you need anything else? 

**Titanium_White:** Only you, baby. Only you. 

**Author's Note:**

> Orions_Nightmare is a reference to the myth behind the Scorpius constellation. Titanium_White is a paint color, which references both Shiro the artist and his hair. :)
> 
> Prompt:  
> Character A is a celebrity of some kind (actor, musician, sports star, youtuber, whatever), who secretly loves reading fanfic/looking at fanart of himself. He has an online pseudonym to keep his identity private and is mostly a lurker, but he can't help befriending his favorite fanworks creator, Character B.


End file.
